Perfection
by JJMel
Summary: Seventh year at Hogwarts from the point of view of Hermione. An insight into the mind of Hermione and a revelation of everything she'd never tell. Please R&R with constructive criticism and praise :P
1. Nightmares and Notes

Perfection

It's the middle of the night. I can see the light of the moon streaming in through the window near my bed. The pale light, gently caresses my blanket, softly kissing the part that covers my feet…my shaking feet. I just had a dream, a frightening dream. I don't want to go back to sleep in case it returns.

I lie in my bed and listen for the steady breathing of my roommates. I hear them; each breathing in slightly different rhythms that are still more or less the same. But my breath doesn't flow smoothly, solidly. It catches in my throat each time I inhale. My breathing is quiet enough that the other girls do not stir. They are fast asleep, dreaming normal dreams.

I draw back the scarlet hangings around my bed. My slippers are sitting neatly next to my bed, and I slide my feet into them. Slowly, I stand up and walk to my trunk. When I open the heavy lid, it blocks the light from the moon so that I have to feel for my sweater. It's a pink, crocheted button-down. My mom gave it to me for Christmas last year. My blissfully oblivious, Muggle mother. She'll never know what life is like here, at Hogwarts, in the magic world. My Muggle parents will never even know that Voldemort exists.

Pausing, frozen in time, I stare blankly into my deep, black trunk. I sigh almost inaudibly and lower the lid. I lock the latch on the front; my roommates don't like me much and I'm always cautious.

As I rise to my feet, I notice that I'm shaking a little from both cold and the dream. I slip on my sweater and button it all the way to the top. I'm still somewhat cold, but I know I'll be perfectly warm once I am in front of the fire. Silently, I pad across the room and open the door. I follow the stairs' spiraling path down to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The heat radiates from the fireplace of the circular room. I sink into the large, comfy armchair closest to the fire. With the new warmth washing over me, I undo the top buttons of my sweater, exposing a little more of my blue- and white-striped pajamas. My mind wanders and I let it fill with random thoughts. And soon those reveries become true sleep.

It's about mid-morning and Ron is here with me in the courtyard. It's break, I know it is, but it's just the two of us. Ron looks down at me; he's standing very close. He leans in towards me as if he intends to kiss me. Ron pauses just inches away and whispers, "Hermione. Wake up."

I start and my eyes fly open. I'm still sitting in the chair next to the fire, which seems to have died out hours ago. It is early morning, now, and Ron is here, but he is not leaning towards me, and he is not whispering. He is shaking my shoulder and shouting, "Hermione! Wake up!"

"Sorry," I say, not really paying attention. I don't understand what I was just dreaming. Why would Ron be trying to kiss me? And why would I feel so happy about it? These are my musings as I give my body a little time to waken and stretch.

Harry trundles down the dormitory staircase yawning. He's already dressed and I instantly remember that to day is a Hogsmeade visit. "Hermione, what are you doing down here in your pajamas?" he asks, perplexed.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came down here and I suppose that worked, didn't it?" I reply as if this happens everyday.

Ron and Harry glance at each other. It's not like me to have trouble sleeping. At least, that's how it's always been before. I speculate that having nightmares like the one I had last night will become more and more frequent.

None of us sleep quite as peacefully as we used to. I think that Harry must barely sleep at all. He certainly looks it, even though he tried to hide it.

"C'mon, Hermione. Go get ready or we'll miss breakfast," Ron says irritably. Breakfast sounds good. Now that I think about it, I am awfully hungry. I race up the stairs to my dormitory and am back down in the common room five minutes later. I'm dressed in a robe, carrying my cloak at my side.

Harry and Ron are both waiting for me. I join them and we climb out of the portrait hole into the corridor. We walk briskly on our way to the Great Hall, chatting happily about Hogsmeade. Since it's early December, Harry and Ron still have Christmas presents to buy. I have already finished my shopping, of course. We decide that Harry and I will wait for Ron in The Three Broomsticks while he shops. Then Harry and Ron will switch. They both promise not to take too long so we can all walk around together for the rest of the day.

We reach the Great Hall with its familiar chatter. We're late, but not terribly. As we sit down at the Gryffindor table and begin eating, the owls come.

"I have a letter from Mum," Ron mentions, turning an envelope over to break the seal. "She wants to know if you two want to spend Christmas with us…and the Order." Ron's face brightens up, "so, what do you think?" He looks hopefully at Harry and me.

During this time I have been skimming over a letter, too. "My mom and dad want me to come home for Christmas, as well," I say and then, a little more quietly, "I don't think I want to be away for so long."

Harry, understanding that I don't want to miss any news, chimes in, "Hermione, maybe you should spend half of vacation with your parents and half with us." I slowly nod my head, the same idea having occurred to me just as Harry began speaking. I mull over the details for a moment and finally decide, "I'll spend the first half with my parents, then."

"Right. I'll send an owl to Mum when we get back from Hogsmeade. Remind me about it, Hermione," Ron says. I shoot him a customary glare for his lack of manners in assuming my assent. I really don't mind, anymore; in fact, I almost kind of like the way Ron is so nonchalant. I like to be at the head of the class, I really do like the endless struggle for perfection, but I also crave Ron's relative peace and carelessness.

We finish our breakfasts and join a growing line of students at the huge front doors. I remember a time, in years before, when the group preparing for a Hogsmeade visit was deafeningly loud. Now, the students are still noisy, but they are considerably more subdued. The castle has become steadily less cheerful ever since my fourth year. I am now in my seventh and final year at Hogwarts, where the laughs are far too few. The departure of Fred and George left gaiety for only the rest of the school year, but at the Ministry's acknowledgement of Voldemort's return, so much joy died. Students' parents began dying, too.


	2. A Couple of Butterbeers

I take a sip of my butterbeer, drinking in the friendly sounds of The Three Broomsticks at the same time. Harry is out shopping and Ron has just walked in the door. I wave at him and he comes to sit down across from me. His face is flushed from the cold winter air.

"Do you want a butterbeer?" I gesture at my own bottle. Ron nods, out of breath, and I move to stand, but Ron touches my arm and says, standing, "It's okay, Hermione, I'll get it." He pauses. "You look like you're about ready for another one. Shall I go get it for you, then?"

I'm surprised both that he is being so polite and that a pleasant shiver went down my spine when he touched me. I smile quickly and say, "That'd be great!" Ron grins back and walks towards the counter.

This is completely contradictory to our usual interactions. I thought I pretty much had us figured out: Remarkably, we are best friends despite a tendency to have rows. I did notice a change in our relationship during fifth year. Ron and I grew a bit closer over the summer with the Order. Other than that, things stayed the same between us.

Ron comes back carrying two bottles and sets one down in front of me, He seats himself and takes a drink of his butterbeer with a satiated sigh. "Thanks," I say. He just nods once and smiles drinking a little more butterbeer. "How long do you think Harry will be out?" I ask casually. "Did he say when he passed you?"

"Yeah, he doesn't think he'll be long. After all, he only has three people to buy presents for," Ron's eyes narrow. I know he's thinking about Harry's third recipient, Draco Malfoy. Ron never really approved of Draco and Harry's relationship, but he tries to pretend that he does. Just like me, he has had no problem with Harry being gay, although we were both very surprised by it. Unlike me, however, he can't accept Harry and Draco's love for each other. I think their relationship is wonderful because, not only will it unite the four houses but, it just makes Harry happy. Draco seems to be the only peace Harry finds in these tough times. Sometimes I wish I had an escape like Harry has.

I realize I've been staring at my butterbeer as I think and I look up. There's a strange look in Ron's eyes that I've never seen there before. It's very soft with a hint of longing in it. As soon as Ron notices that I've seen him looking at me that way, he blushes a violent red.

"Er…I, er…" Ron stutters, looking rather uncomfortable. Just now, Harry appears by the table with rosy, wind-whipped cheeks.

"Hi," he says. "I tried to get your attention through the window, but you didn't see me, he explains. "You two ready to go?"

"Yeah," Ron and I say at the same time. We both get up and follow Harry outside. We are all bundled up in our cloaks and snow flurries are falling gently, sticking in our hair and resting on our shoulders. We wander down the street just talking about school and Quidditch. As we pass by an alley, I notice a shadowy figure hiding in its recesses. Harry notices the person, too, and stops. He glances around then whispers to Ron and I, "I'll meet you in the front of Zonko's in about two hours."

"Right," I say, "see you then." Harry's eyes sweep the street again to make sure no one is watching and disappears into the alley. I see the dim figure of Harry meet the other silhouette and their forms seem to melt together. I can't see, but I know Harry is kissing Draco. I feel a sudden swell of sorrow that they have to hide.

I turn back to the street and continue walking with Ron. We're silent for a while, but we resume talking as we reach the potion supply store, Eyere's. We spend some time there, picking out the supplies I need to restock. It's warm inside, so neither of us is in a hurry to leave. We finally do, though, and turn back onto the street in the bitter wind.

"Oh, my hands are so cold! I forgot to bring my gloves with me," I say after a few minutes.

"Here," Ron says, holding out his palms, "give me your hands." I comply. He takes my small hands and rubs them. My hands, as well as my face, begin to grow warmer. I look at Ron's face and he looks down into my eyes. Slowly, he stops rubbing my hands and simply holds them. I see the same foreign look in his eyes again. He leans down towards me, and, by instinct I suppose, I tilt my face up to him. As he inches closer, I can feel his hot breath on my lips. I close my eyes lightly and his lips touch mine ever so tenderly. He just barely pulls away, and then I feel his mouth on mine more certainly this time.

For the first time in my life, there are no thoughts, only feelings, as his tongue caresses my lip. A tingle runs down my spine and my lips part. Shyly, Ron's tongue begins exploring my mouth. He drops my hands and I reach up, placing my arms around his neck. Ron takes my waist in embrace and I pull him closer, enjoying the warmth of his body so near to me and the sensations in my mouth.

Suddenly, Ron leaves me and I open my eyes. He is blushing a deep crimson. "I, er…Hermione…er," he says. I'm as surprised as he is at what just happened, but I am sure of myself. I stroke his fiery hair with my right hand and lean in to him again. I place my lips on his, already parted, and kiss him. Reassured that it is what I want, he kisses back harder now. This kiss is not soft like the one before, but rough and exciting. I am breathing hard through my nose and Ron's arms pull me so close, his hands roaming across my back.

I feel, rather than hear, a low rumble in Ron's chest. His lips stray from my mouth and travel to my neck. I gasp at the shocking new sensation. I hear my breath release in a pleasant sigh. There's a jolt as I feel cold brick against my arms and Ron's back is pressed against the outside of a shop wall. He stops where he is, halfway down my neck. His hands rest on my hips and I pull back with my hands on his shoulders. Ron looks down to my eyes again and smiles spread across both our flushed faces. There is still no need for real, formed thoughts or words, so I slide my left hand down Ron's arm and take his hand from my waist. He links his fingers through mine and turns to the street.

The two of us walk along for a while, hand-in-hand. We stop in front of store windows and jovially discuss their contents. As we are walking, Ron unexpectedly stops and says, "Hermione, wait here!" I look up at him, puzzled, but he just grins and unlaces our fingers. He starts to walk away then says, "oh, and face that way." He points in the direction from which we came. Now I'm sure he's going to surprise me somehow. Of course, one would think that he's going to buy me a present, but I don't know if he has enough money to do that. I smile and do as he says.

I wait for several minutes, watching all the other Hogwarts students passing through the streets of Hogsmeade. I wonder if any of them saw Ron and I kissing or walking together. As far as I can tell, though, no one noticed. The students don't seem to notice Ron and I much outside of class or when we're not with Harry. I don't quite know how people will react to us because I have never really considered this possibility before. They'll be surprised, I expect, but pleasantly or horrifically?

Finally, Ron comes up behind me, drapes one arm loosely over my shoulder and presents a small bouquet of flowers with his other. I take the flowers and spin around to face him. "Do you like them?" he says hopefully. In response, I kiss him.

"I love them," I say. I'm so impressed with his behavior today: so sweet and thoughtful. "How did you know that petunias are my favorite flower?" I ask.

Ron looks startled. "They are?" he exclaims. "They just reminded me of you somehow. I didn't even know that they were called 'petunias' until the shop lady told me."

I laugh and start walking again, his left arm now laid across both my shoulders. Holding the bouquet in my right hand, I reach up with my left to take his and notice his watch. "Oh no! We're late meeting Harry!" Ron glances at his watch as well and steers us back towards Zonko's joke shop.

When we're almost to the door, Ron says, "What will we say to Harry?"

"I think he'll be able to figure out that we're together pretty easily," I laugh.

Ron opens the door and we walk inside the store. Harry is examining some items at the front, looking tired but pleased. I blush a little when I think of what made him look that way. My mind, of course being so incredibly logical, strays to wondering where Harry and Draco could possibly have found a place to… I squash the thought before I get to the operative word. I don't need to be thinking about that right now, it's too distracting.

"Harry!" Ron says. "Harry, sorry we're late." Ron tightens his arm around me.

Harry looks up. "Hey mates," he says distractedly, then I watch as comprehension dawns on his face. "You…are you…?"

Ron is a little worried at Harry's reaction. "Yeah, Harry, we're a couple now, I guess…" I say a little shyly, looking back up to Ron. He smiles at me and I'm at peace that it was intention to date.

"Wow, this is incredible!" Harry cries, causing a few faces to glance his way. "I thought you two would never get together!"

"What?" Ron and I stay instantly. I was not expecting that reaction at all from Harry and apparently neither was Ron. "I never said…how did you…?" Ron stammers, dumbfounded.

Harry just laughs, "How about a couple of butterbeers?" and leads us out of Zonko's towards The Three Broomsticks.

JJ's note - Ok, sorry about all the fluff in this chapter to those who don't like fluff. I do hope, however, that I can satisfy both fluff and non-fluff lovers. I haven't decided exactly what I'm going to do yet, but I definitely have things in mind, just not sure if I want to go extreme about it or not…evil laugh I shall never tell!


	3. Rainy Day

_I'm running as fast as I can through a deep, dark forest. I can see Harry and Ron running just ahead of me. Green jets of light shoot past me, hitting the trees all around. One spell destroys a tree only two feet away._

"_Kill the girl and the redhead!" screeches Voldemort's icy voice. "Leave Potter to me!"_

_Right in front of me, Harry has stopped running. I see a look of determination and anger on his sweaty face as he points his wand past me. Ron stops too, equally determined, but I can see the desperate fear in his wide eyes. I run the rest of the way to where they are standing, wand at the ready. I'm out of breath and sweat is soaking my robes. Suddenly, Harry cries out and all three of us charge back towards the Death Eaters, back towards Voldemort. _

Then it happens. Two jets of green and both Harry and Ron are down. Their bodies are limp. I stop running and fall to the ground, overwhelmed.

I gasp and find myself lying in my bed. My sheets are drenched in sweat. I take seven steadying breaths as tears stream down my face. I've had nightmares like this so often, but Harry and Ron never died before my eyes. For the entire past week, these nightmares have been growing worse and my two best friends have consistently found me in the common room.

True to my newest trend, I creep quietly downstairs. I'm still shaking and, even though I know it was a dream, I can't stop crying. Lost in my thoughts, I wander into the common room. To my surprise, Ron is there waiting for me. I frantically try to wipe away my tears.

"Hermione," Ron whispers sadly. He holds his arms out to me and I collapse against his chest, my tears no longer silent. He holds me and pets my hair. Slowly, carefully, Ron leads me to a chair. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap. Ron strokes my arm and says "Hermione, what's up?"

I've calmed down a little bit by now. "Harry died and…and…you…" I can't finish, but Ron understands.

"It's okay, Hermione, it's okay," Ron whispers. He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. He holds me as I cry myself back to sleep.

I open my eyes blearily when Ron shakes my shoulder. "Mmmm," I mumble sleepily, "I'm tired. It's Saturday." I press my cheek against his warm, bare chest. _Wait! His_ bare _chest?_ My eyes fly back open and I look down. Thankfully, he is wearing his blue-and-green plaid boxers and I am still dressed in my nightclothes. _Or is that unfortunately…?_

"Ron, where is your shirt?" I ask unconcernedly.

"What's the matter? You don't like it off? You seemed pretty determined to get more than just my shirt off last night," Ron says. I'm fully awake now. I gasp, but Ron starts laughing. "I took my shirt off because you cried all over it."

I give Ron my best glare of indignation as he puts his shirt back on and playfully punch him in the shoulder. "You are such a prat!" I inform him. "You shouldn't-"

Ron stops me mid-sentence with a well-aimed kiss. I pull away smiling. I try to speak again ("You know you can't just-"), but Ron's tender kiss wins once more. He makes this kiss a bit deeper without abandoning his jovial manner.

The moment of young frivolity is broken as Ginny Weasley addresses us: "Ewww! We all know you two are together, you don't have to prove it!"

I pull away from Ginny's older brother, blushing furiously. Ginny continues to stare at us in utter disgust until I have climbed out of Ronald's lap. While I am mortified by Ginny's comment, Ron seems to be offended instead. His deep blue eyes flash irately, and he stands to face his sister, who is still quite petite. This move would actually be intimidating to someone who doesn't know Ron, but Ginny doesn't bat an eye.

"Where do you come off saying that, eh?" Ron growls. We both know that this is how Ron deals with his insecurity. Something instantly clicks in my mind and, in the space of two seconds, I realize that Ron must have liked me for a long time and that he never thought he had a chance with me. My chocolate-colored eyes widen in surprise.

My astonishment only deepens as Ginny, whose temper is every bit as hot as any other Weasley's, actually smiles! She is standing directly in front of her towering, angry brother and grinning from ear to ear. Then, in a rare show of sisterly affection, she hugs Ronald and says, "you know it's my job as your little sister to be annoying!" Ginny releases her dumbfounded captive and exits through the portrait-hole into the chilly stone corridors.

I quickly surmise that Ginny must be on her period. I chuckle to myself and turn my attention to Ron, who is standing immobile with his features frozen in shock. My dainty giggles over Ginny's conduct give way to a very unlady-like snort of mirth. Ron's face thaws as he redirects his attention from the blank wall to me. His eyebrows knit in confusion at my outburst, which only makes me laugh harder.

"What's up with _you_?" queries Ron.

I do my best to sober myself. I manage to stop laughing, but my eyes continue to sparkle and a giant grin holds my countenance. "It's nothing, Ron, it's nothing," I shake my head. He looks skeptical for a moment and shrugs. I take a few steps closer to him and whisper, "You look so cute when you're confused."

He blushes and modestly lowers his gaze to my feet. Something in the way he seems so bashful, twisting his fingers together, reminds me of my earlier cogitation about his prolonged, hidden fancy for me. I continue honestly, "You know, I like a lot of things about you." He tentatively looks into my equally shy visage. I move a little closer to his warm body. "I like your smile," I say. Ron gives me an involuntary trademark grin. "And I like the way you kiss, too." He leans in to place a (voluntary) kiss on my red lips. I am soon enfolded in his arms and engaged in a sweet lovers' kiss.

Unfortunately, we hapless lovers are disturbed yet again by Harry's voice calling down the boys' dormitory stairs, "Ron, I hope you're down there! We have Quidditch practice today!"

Ron looks around to the old staircase with an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I'm here," he shouts back, releasing my waist, "but I'm not dressed for Quidditch, yet." He lowers his voice when Harry reaches the bottom of the spiraling steps.

"Well you had better hurry, mate."

"Yeah, I will." Ron starts climbing the stairs. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Right, see you at breakfast," Harry says to Ron. Next, Harry turns to me, "Are you coming down for an early breakfast with us, 'Mione?"

"Sure," I say. "I'll get dressed and come down with Ron."

Harry nods at me and winds his way down to the Great Hall. I rush up the stairs to Ron's dormitory. "Ron?" I yell through the door. I hear footsteps and the door opens slightly. Ron's face appears in the opening along with his bare shoulders.

"What Hermione? I'm naked; you can't come in."

Yet again I blush. In a moment Ron catches on to the information he revealed and turns just as red. We both try to ignore it. "Er…Ron, I'm coming down to early breakfast with you. Will you please wait for me to change?"

"Sure, H-Hermione. See you downstairs, then." Ron disappears and the door closes. I stand, still staring at the rectangle of wood between myself and a very sexily unclad Ronald Weasley. For the second time in a day, I, Miss Perfect, have had slightly naughty thoughts about Ronald. Though I have admitted these socially condemned transgressions to myself, to all of society I will remain the definition of perfection. My so-called "sinful" thoughts, however, are finally pushed to the back of my brain as I climb to my room and change clothes.

Minutes later I gracefully waltz into the common room. Ron is tapping his foot impatiently and asks, "What took you so long? I've been waiting forever!"

I keep my cool and say, "Ron, a girl needs more time for primping." I fluff my brown curls coyly.

"Well I don't see a difference from this morning," he mutters.

"What! My hair looks much better! I did a spell to get rid of the frizz and everything," I say a little loudly.

"Oh come off it, Hermione, your hair's always frizzy; you'll never have hair that's smooth like Parvati's."

I don't know what to say so I stomp to the portrait-hole. Then, out of nowhere, "Why don't you go snip off Parvati's _beautiful_ locks and put them under your pillow? And don't bother accompanying me on the way to breakfast." I say the last sentence with a painfully even tone. I turn on my heel, my robe swishing like a gown, and regally start down the corridor. Ron is left in the empty room, fuming. When the entrance to the Gryffindor tower shuts me out of view, tears threaten. Stinging, burning pain attacks my dark eyes, but I don't let a single tear escape. The inner storm threatens off and on all the way down to the Great Hall. I stop it cold with a smile just before I walk through the echoing entrance.

"'Morning, Harry," I say brightly.

"Hi, 'Mione…Where's Ron?" Harry questions.

"Oh, I suppose he'll be coming in any minute now," I say, ever so nonchalant. Harry gives me a quizzical look then returns to his toast and eggs. My cheery façade waivers, but neither Harry nor any other member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team notices.

No sooner do I begin eating than Ron shows up. His bad mood is obvious to any fool. "Hello, Ron," Harry greets him with his mouth full of scrambled eggs. Ron doesn't answer. "What's up, mate?" Harry asks earnestly.

"Hermione's being grumpy," Ronald says more to me than to Harry.

"I am not grumpy. I just think you were rude," I explain simply.

"Hmph!" Ron expresses, dropping heavily onto the wooden bench beside Harry and spears a sausage with his fork. The Great Hall falls silent except for the clatter of silverware issuing from the sleepy team and myself.

When everyone has finished eating, I walk out to the Quidditch pitch with them and find a seat in the stands. Ginny, a Gryffindor Chaser and the team captain, talks to her teammates, then one-by-one they mount their brooms and soar into the air. They really are an excellent team. The newer recruits are a fine group and the three veterans (Ginny, Harry, and Ron) are absolutely unbeatable. Ginny, while she made a great Seeker, is an even better Chaser. Harry, of course, remains the best Seeker in the history of Hogwarts. And Ron is now nearly as good a Keeper as Oliver Wood.

The thought of Ron ushers in the gray cloud that has been hanging over my head all morning. I don't feel like holding back my tears any longer so I call up to Harry. "Hey! Harry! I have to get to work on an essay! I'll see you later!"

"Okay!" Harry's voice echoes through the stadium. My legs steadily carry me into the castle and up to my dormitory. My roommates are all soundly asleep. I calmly climb into my bed, close the scarlet hangings, perform a silencing charm, and set free the torrent of pain I've been hiding.


	4. Charades

I wipe the salty water from my puffy, red eyes. I peek out from behind the curtains to make sure all the other girls really did leave. The coast is clear, so I pull the hangings all the way back, breaking the silencing charm. I dip my fingers in the water pitcher by my bed and sprinkle its contents into my eyes. Blinking, I reach into my trunk and pull out a small, hand-held mirror. I examine my face and watch the red blotches fade back to cream. My robes are wrinkled so I smooth them with my hands. I dig my Transfiguration book out of my trunk, grab a quill and parchment, and head downstairs to the common room. I seat myself at a table near a window and staart writing. The crimson-and-gold room is crowded with about have of the Gryffindors because it is gloomy outside now that the snow has turned to slush and there's a strong wind bending the trees.

Soon, I am completely absorbed in my Transfiguration essay. Words form on my paper, ink glistening, until I'm startled out of my intense concentration by someone's shout. "Hermione! We didn't see you there! How's your essay coming?" Harry calls across the room from an armchair where he is playing exploding snap with Ron. His torso is bent at an odd angle so he can see me around the many tables, chairs, and people scattered about the common room. I lay my quill on top of my essay and walk towards the pair.

"It's fine. I'm nearly finished I think," I yawn. "Don't you two have homework, as well?" I raise my eyebrows, knowing full well that they are procrastinating again.

"Yeah," Harry yawns back at me. Not a moment after Harry's mouth closes, Ron's opens in a yawn.

"We'll do it later, 'Mione," Ron says widely through the tail end of his yawn. Lavender glances our way – no doubt searching for Parvati – and catches the highly contagious yawn. I glare at my mates. "Tell you what, Hermione, let's make a deal. I'll start my homework after a round of exploding snap with you."

I consider this idea then extend my arm. "Deal," I say, shaking Ron's hand vigorously. "Budge up, Harry, I'm gonna beat this bloke," I say mock-fiercely. Harry laughs and vacates his chair. I sit down, primly adjusting my robes and royally declare, "Sir Harry, I shall need your assistance in defeating this rogue."

"Even with the aide of such a valiant knight as he, I shall have you, Lady," Ron retorts, having caught on quickly for once.

"Oh, but M'Lady," Harry interjects glancing at his watch, "I must unwillingly decline your request!"

"Good Sir Harry! Wherefore must you leave me in such peril?" I explain, acting distressed.

Harry leans down and whispers for only Ron and me to hear, "Fair Lady, my heart belongs to another." Harry gives us an exaggerated wink and walks (a little faster than usual) out of the room. I laugh along with Ron, but I know that mirth doesn't show in my eyes. Ron, of course, doesn't notice this.

As the two of us play, I feel so keenly my continued charade that I have to constantly search Ron's eyes to prove to myself that he doesn't know what I'm hiding. It was really not Ron who made me cry so hard, but rather my own self-hate.


	5. My Better Half

Walking, walking, breathing in and out, talking smiling, walking, walking, breathe, breathe, just breathe

No thinking, don't think, just do assignments, answer a question, "Hey Harry!", no feelings, just go! Just breathe and talk, and smile and walk, and run from the feelings close behind

Ah the day is done good-bye sun hello dangerous stranger ranting in my head and

**You know...you're...crazy... ha You shouldn't be hearing voices... but I talk to you, little girl, you weak disgusting child...**

Don't say that! Don't say that! I won't listen to you!

**How dare you yell! How dare you raise your voice! You are a terrible, disobedient, hateful child! Don't ever raise your voice!**

Tremble. Silent. Unable to answer.

Tears. Tears. They hate me, They hate me.

**That's because you're a selfish little bitch! Learn your place! They weren't put on this earth to serve you!**

I know...I know...I'm here to serve them...to serve.

No self. No self!

**It's what you deserve!**

I know...I know...No self...no self

**They hate you**

But why?

**Don't you see it? You think it's all about you**

But I try! I try! Why? Why?

**And they hate you because you play a helpless victim, Oh yes, you play your role so well**

I don't! I don't! I can't listen, don't you see? I just don't know how to be brave, I don't know how to be strong

And I scream, How could you betray me? But in the end I know-

**It was all your own fault. You dreamt me into life and you'll never wake up because the demons that haunt you-**

Are all just a part of the plan to make them pity me. I see, you're right... How could they betray me?

**You know you did it to yourself. It was all your own-**

All my own fault. Hate me! Hate me! Kill me, it's what I deserve!

**Yes, you must die.**

Yes, I must die... But oh, I am too weak

**Playing the victim! You prat, you're playing the victim and hoping some prince will come and bear you away, but Prince Charming knows-**

I'm a demon inside...


End file.
